


All Wrapped Up

by HouseofTheBear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Erotica, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofTheBear/pseuds/HouseofTheBear
Summary: Red silk ribbons aren't just for presents. Jorah x Daenerys Modern AU.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: A song of frosted bear kisses and dragon roasted chestnuts, Jorah and Daenerys' Garden of Erotic Delights





	All Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> For my second contribution to the fantastic Winter Jorleesi Event, may I present this one-shot. It's set in The Protector universe, sometime after Jorah and Daenerys have married. Can be read as a stand-alone, although reading the other fic can't hurt ;)
> 
> [Van Morrison - Have I Told You Lately](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J789GId1kaY) This version is the one I associate with how Jorah feels about Daenerys. 
> 
> Thank you to the amazing chryssadirewolf for the fantastic aesthetic she made! As always, it's perfect! And, of course, a big thank you to clarasimone for the subtle (and not-so-subtle) nudges to get this story finished. Your friendship is a blessing!
> 
> Warnings: Major fluff and feels, erotica

_There_ , she thought, piping the finishing touch on the last of that particular batch of sugar cookies, _they're perfect._ The bear’s face looked up at her from the parchment-lined baking sheet, the bright blue dots of his eyes not exactly like _her_ bear's, but it would have to do. The two rows of similarly shaped sugar cookies lay above the two rows of dragons, their red and green half-circles reminiscent of scales.

The cutter for that shape had been hard to find, but Jorah had overheard her exasperated grumbling and gone on a search of his own, finding it at a specialty baking supply shop online. He had it overnighted and watched with a smile as she opened the box. She'd caught him off guard with her fierce kiss and whispered _'thank you'_ , to which he had only smiled broader.

Outside a light snowfall dusted the ground like powdered sugar, Jorah hadn’t been kidding about it getting quite cold this time of year. But inside it was cozy thanks to the fire Jorah had lit, not to mention, the heat from all the cooking and baking she had done. The music from the wireless speaker changed to a modern Christmas tune, one she recognized at once, her toe-tapping, her hips swinging from side to side to the beat. Opening the oven door, she slid the next tray inside and closed it, setting the timer the requisite time. She continued dancing, gliding over to the fridge to put away the remaining dough, her body swaying to the rhythm. But just as she was closing the door, she sensed she was being watched. She smiled to herself, “Take a picture, Jorah, it'll last longer.”

“I already did, love.” She turned, his hand holding up his mobile. “And it will make a lovely new lockscreen too.”

She smirked at him, shaking her head. “Well, then I guess I'll have to change mine to the one I took of you last week.” Jorah's brow furrowed, “You know, the one of you with only a towel ‘round your waist and shaving cream on your neck.”

He pushed off from where he had been leaning against the entryway to their kitchen, “That's not so awful.” He wrapped her in his arms, “Besides, I know how much you like it.”

_Damn, plan foiled._ She remembered how she had wolf-whistled and bit her lip before dashing off after he started to give chase. He affectionately called the game _'the giggle and squeal'_ because of the sounds she made. She had ended up with a neck full of white foam and they were both late to work.

Now, with a new song beginning to play, a slower non-Christmas one, Jorah began to sway and Daenerys followed suit. She rested her ear against his chest, listening to his heart, slightly muffled by his forest green fisherman's sweater. She loved how warm and safe she felt in his embrace, his chin resting gently against the crown of her head. He began to hum the lyrics to _Have I Told You Lately._ He had told her once that he had always associated that song with her and the way she made him feel. She didn’t have to say it, he knew the feeling was mutual. She remembered fondly how he had called into a local radio station's request hour to dedicate the song to her. She had a hard time explaining her teary eyes to the patrons in her art gallery that day.

By the end, he was softly singing the chorus to her, one hand resting on the nape of her neck, the other at her lower back. “You snuck that into the Christmas playlist, didn’t you?”

“Who? Me?”

She could hear the smile in his voice, “I'm glad you did.”

He chuckled, but the timer picked the perfect moment to go _ding_ , breaking up the romantic mood. Reluctantly, they parted and she went to the counter to retrieve the oven mitt, slipping it on and opening the door, the unctuous smell of baked goods filling the air.

“Those smell delicious,” he remarked, coming to a stop beside her.

“Do you want to decorate some?”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin them, love.”

“You won’t,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Here,” she said, holding out a piping bag of golden yellow icing, “Do whatever you want, that’s the fun of it.”

Jorah took it hesitantly, eyeing her perfectly baked cookies. Sensing his reluctance, Daenerys set a slightly burnt one in front of him, “Practice on this.”

Feeling a bit better about it, he started by outlining the bear’s head and ears, his lines a little wobbly, but not all that bad. Daenerys watched him, smiling at the way the tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his lips in concentration. He was adorable when he did that.

When he was done, he held up the finished product, mimicking the expression he had drawn: A smiling, winking bear.

“Aww, how cute. And just like the cookie,” she stood on tiptoe and kissed his nose, “you're good enough to eat.”

“Isn't that supposed to be my line, love,” he purred, wrapping his arm around her, his lips descending to claim hers.

When he pulled back, she was still blushing, something Jorah found very endearing. Even after all their time together, he could still make her cheeks red by saying something so simple and sweet.

She danced out of his arms and took the cookie from his hand, putting it back on the tray. “Decorate some more like that while I work on these dragons.”

They set to work, humming along to the next song and exchanging icing bags when they wanted a new color. Soon, they had a tray full of beautifully decorated cookies, some of which Daenerys would be mailing to Missandei and her new boyfriend, Grey. She knew she was a bit late in getting cards and gifts sent out, but it had been a busy last few months, and since she was her friend, she’d understand. After they both washed up, Daenerys took Jorah’s hand and led him from the kitchen, “There's something I want you to see.”

There, above the entrance to their sitting room, was a sprig of mistletoe. “Happy Christmas, Jorah.”

The way her eyes twinkled up at him, the soft happy smile on her face, all of it brought a rush of loving warmth to his chest and a fond memory to the forefront of his mind. “Happy Christmas, Daenerys.”

It sounded a bit hoarse to his ears, his emotions making his throat tight. Her palm cupped his jaw and she stepped to him, her left hand coming to rest on his chest. The petite emerald in her wedding ring glinted in the light, drawing his gaze down for a moment before rising to the beautiful amethyst hue of her irises. His arms drew around her in a lazy embrace.

“Do you remember our first kiss?”

“I'll never forget it.”

“I wanted to kiss you after our dance. You looked so handsome that night. But I'm glad I waited until I saw the mistletoe, it added a little something I think.”

“But then you ran...and I thought I had made some grave mistake, took too many liberties somehow.”

She smiled wistfully, “I was overwhelmed. Kissing you, Jorah,” she sighed, “I had never felt such a rush of emotion before, such a sudden, all-consuming need for someone. Actually, I didn't want to stop,” she admitted softly.

“I didn't either,” he revealed.

She met his eyes, such love radiated from them. But now, also the same desire she had just spoken of. Her hand slid over his chest to thread into the fluffy curls at the nape of his neck, “Now we don’t have to.”

Their lips met, soft, sweet at first, a near repeat of that first kiss all those years ago. Jorah tilted his head slightly, lips parting, tongues meeting. The kiss grew deeper, one that spoke of time and understanding, of knowing the other person as yourself. It left them both breathless, their foreheads touching.

“Wow.”

Jorah chuckled softly, his kiss could still amaze her and he knew it always would. She certainly had that effect on him too.

Twirling one of Jorah's curls around her finger, she whispered, “Hold that thought.”

He reluctantly let her go, watching her dash upstairs. He waited; a bit confused. _Perhaps she has another surprise,_ he wondered.

“Jorah, can you help me with something?”

She didn’t sound like she was in need of any assistance, but he went up anyway. Reaching the top of the staircase and rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance to their bedroom. The room was warmly lit by multiple candles resting on the nightstand, the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, and on her dressing table. But it wasn't the lighting that took his breath away and made him feel rooted on the spot. It was Daenerys, wrapped up in nothing by a large crimson bow, the silky bands concealing her most intimate places. Her skin practically glowed in contrast to the red, a color that had always suited her complexion. Even her cute little toes were the same shade as the ribbon, her long silvery tresses flowing around her. A familiar twinge throbbed in his groin; his jeans now far too constricting.

“I think you like it,” she giggled, her eyes centered below his waistband.

He swallowed roughly, but couldn't find his voice. Daenerys' smile faltered, her posture shifting at the stunned expression on Jorah's face, “I know I don’t usually do things like this, but I thought—”

“Daenerys, you’re just so breathtaking, I--,” he finally uttered, meeting her gaze. Regaining his faculties, he crossed the room and threaded his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head, his other hand cradling her jaw, gently tilting her eyes up to meet his. All he could do was stare before he dipped his head and kissed her. She rose into it, her arms encircling his neck, pressing into the warmth of his body. He didn’t rush, he savored the plush fullness of her lips, the rasp of their tongues, the mingling of their shared exhales.

“Take this sweater off,” she murmured against his cheek, “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Jorah did as she asked, drawing the thick garment over his head and dropping it to the floor. Her hands wasted no time following the lean planes of his torso, her fingers threading through the springy fur.

“My gorgeous, golden bear,” she sighed, nuzzling the space between his pectorals, breathing in his scent.

He huffed a laugh, then groaned as her hand slipped down and cupped his hardness, his hips involuntarily jerking against her palm. Looking up at him through her lashes, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, she undid his button and zip before tugging the dark denim down his hips, letting it fall to his feet. She could barely contain her laugh, his boxer briefs covered in bears wearing Santa hats. “Oh, Jorah, these are adorable!”

“I thought you might like them,” he ducked his head, smiling, “Maybe I should wear a hat, I am _your_ bear after all.”

“No,” she said, giving him an appreciative once-over, “These will do just fine.”

They were better than ‘just fine’. They clung to him in all the right places, showing off the strength of his thighs, not to mention, the wonderful girth of his cock, a wet spot darkening the fabric at its tip. Her body had a visceral reaction to his obvious arousal, she loved when he was that turned on for her.

Taking his hand, she guided him to the bed and pushed him down onto it, as much as she could given her petite stature. He let himself fall back, laughing, having no issue relinquishing control to her. She arched an eyebrow, “Something funny, my bear?”

“No, lov--,” he gasped, her fingers brushing over his length, making it twitch.

“That’s better,” she smirked, grasping the waistband and drawing his briefs down and off.

He stood at attention, a gorgeous monument to his masculinity and prowess. Her sex clenched; the silk ribbon soaked through with a new rush of wetness. Climbing onto the bed between his legs, she took him in a gentle hold, her thumb spreading the clear beads oozing from the slit with each slow pump of her hand over the head and onto the underside, the little bundle of nerves so akin to her own, making him tense and press up into her strokes.

Smooth and hard, she could feel each pound of his heart coursing through it, his body physically calling out to her to end the torment. She leaned forward and swiped her tongue over the glans, enjoying his salty flavor and listening to him groan low in his chest. Jorah wasn't the sort of man who needed or even asked for this, he much preferred giving than receiving. But Daenerys had told him once that she wanted him that way sometimes, to pleasure him the way he so often, and so well, pleasured her. So he gave up fighting it...usually. Tonight was different, he would much rather give her an earth-shattering orgasm, then make languid, sweet love to her.

“Daenerys, love,” his voice and breath shaky, “you--,” he gulped, her tongue teasing the underside, his hips lifting to her even as he was trying to tell her he didn’t need her to. She slipped him into her mouth and all further argument died, his head falling back to the pillow with a moan, his body surrendering.

She hummed in satisfaction, her tongue dancing and swirling as she took him in and withdrew at a leisurely pace. Shifting to get a better angle, she straddled his leg, his knee so close to her center. He could feel the heat radiating from her, so he bent his leg just enough, silently offering himself to fulfill a need. She ground into him and he could feel just how wet she was, how it dampened his skin. That knowledge did him in. His cock throbbed, hardening even more, he could feel his release gathering his sac tight. _Not that way,_ he thought.

“Gods,” he panted, his hands flexing at his sides, “I—”

She glanced up at him and he could see the determination in her eyes, she wanted him to let go.

She quickened her pace, adding her hand to stroke the rest of him, working in tandem with her mouth, her tongue, to send him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed under his breath, fisting the sheet, his hips jerking slightly with each pulse of his essence. He tried to catch his breath as she eased him down softly, gently, gathering the last of him with a delicate swipe of her tongue. After a parting kiss, she sat back, quite proud of how sated her bear looked, because of her.

He reached out his hand to her, “Come here, love.” She nestled into his side, propping up on her elbow to look down at him. “I know the perfect way to spend the next 15 minutes,” he said, his voice still husky from his orgasm. Based on past experience, what he planned to do would last far longer than he said it would.

And she couldn't wait.

Turning them so she lay on her back, he traced the edges of the ribbon at her shoulders and down over her chest, feather-light fingertips against her skin. He watched the gooseflesh rise, felt the shiver of her excitement, the fever bright desire flare in her eyes. Her nipples were tight points beneath the red, he could see how much they were begging for his mouth. He bent his head and kissed them, just a brush of his lips, her breath catching.

“I don’t need a bow to know you are a gift to me, love,” he purred, skimming the edges near her breasts. “But I will open it as I do any treasure you have bestowed on me.”

She couldn't help her smile, nor her soft laugh, at his romantic words. For a man who valued brevity, he could be quite loquacious when he needed to. And while she loved when he took his time, now she wanted him to go a bit faster. Already very aroused from their earlier activities, as well as wearing the little outfit for him, she was getting quite impatient. Threading her fingers into his curls, she drew him down for a kiss, not wasting any more time with subtlety. She let her lips and tongue tell him just how eager she was, just how needy he made her. And as he always did, he indulged her, kissing her back with the same hunger. Pausing for air, he nuzzled her neck, his whiskers tickling her, making her arch into him. But when he found that sensitive patch of skin just below her ear, she gripped his shoulder and keened, “Jorah... _please_.”

Her amorous plea shot straight to his cock and it took all of his strength to not slip into her right then. He moved down her body and undid the bow, the pieces falling away to bare her gorgeous breasts to his eyes. He made what sounded like a growl and tucked his arm under her back, lifting her to his mouth. He worshiped her pale flesh, suckled at her taut berries, making her gasp and whimper for more. But he had other ideas in mind.

Drawing the ribbon back from between her parted thighs, he couldn't help but notice how it clung wetly to her glistening sex. Dropping to his knees at the bedside, one of his favorite places, he drew her to the edge and gently coaxed her further open with his palms, gazing unabashedly at the decadent feast before him. He groaned, drawing her legs over his shoulders and nuzzling into her curls, kissing her little pearl, “Gods Daenerys...”

Then his tongue was there, weaving its magic and lapping at her sweet nectar. Her moan was wanton and obscene, her body trembling. With her hands already fisting in his hair, he knew she wouldn't need much attention before she shattered for him.

“There...there,” she pleaded, panting, curling her hips up to his mouth, “faster...”

He would never deny her, even as he wanted to savor this act of devotion. He flicked with short, hard strokes, her back arching in immediate reaction, her legs tightening against his back. Her breath caught suddenly, her wide eyes meeting his briefly before her head fell back and she shivered, each wave of her release had her whimpering his name. He stayed there until she could take no more, her hands reaching for him. Cradling her in one arm, he guided them to the center of the bed, and while he crawled up her body, he bestowed soft kisses to her flushed skin until their eyes met. The evidence of his renewed desire nestled against her slick folds, a gasp leaving her at the feel of him so hot and hard. So ready. Jorah knew she was still a bit sensitive, so he waited, content to simply look at her, to brush his fingers through the wisps of hair at her temples, and silently tell her just how much he loved her, how much she meant to him. They could say so much to each other that way, an entire conversation without a single word.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, and as they had done countless times before, became one. She couldn't help how her eyelids fluttered shut at the perfect fullness, her body made for his. And when her eyes opened again, there was that familiar look in his beautiful blue ones, that soft smile crinkling the corners. So much love, adoration really, and not for the first time, wonder too. _Sometimes I look at you and I can't believe you’re real._ He had said it before his proposal and a few other times too. Times when she wasn’t doing anything she thought was particularly profound or of note. But Jorah saw her differently, not just the beauty of her features, but the beauty of her soul. Her thumb brushed over his lips and he caught her hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. She watched him gaze at the glinting silver and green on her ring finger, at the infinity knots bordering the gemstone. Symbols of eternity, of their everlasting devotion to each other. Blue met violet and everything else melted away. Now, in their candlelit bedroom, emotions swelled in her chest, each tender movement of their bodies, so in sync, intensified the sensations too. He knew exactly how to roll his hips on every thrust to set her body ablaze, his large, warm hand splayed across her lower back, fitted into the dimples there that he found undeniably sexy, tilting her, reaching and stroking that special place. She clung to his back, her breathing deepening, his husky whisper _that's it, love_ sent her pulsing around him, further slickening his cock, her face contorted in ecstasy. He was infinitely grateful she had decided to see to him first, the clenching of her sex and the soft sounds of her pleasure would have otherwise done him in. Now, he could give her one more before he sought his own.

But it appeared Daenerys had other plans. Her hands pressed against his chest, “Lie back, Jorah.”

He did as she asked, watching her straddle him, her hand grasping his length so she could ease herself down, taking him to the hilt. She started slow, but soon sped up, moving her hips in the way she knew would satisfy them both quickly.

Her rhythm made her breasts sway, her hair bounce and tease his tensing thighs, her smile that of a sultry temptress. Their passion, so alike, and yet, so different, still complimented the other. And, right now, Jorah was under Daenerys' spell.

Or was he?

Shifting one hand from her waist to where they were joined, he circled her little pearl with the right pressure, her body reacting instantly.

“Yes,” she breathed, her head tipping back, her short nails scraping through the fur on his chest. The bed frame creaked as she rode him harder, finesse disappearing from her movements. He was nearly there too, meeting her thrust for thrust, growling until, at last, she stilled, moaning, milking his rock-hard length. He could barely articulate her name around the guttural noises rising from his throat, his lungs desperate for air. It appeared Daenerys couldn't breathe properly either. She slumped over his body, mumbling something about feeling boneless.

He wanted to chuckle, but couldn’t at the moment. Sticky with sweat and beyond satiated, he smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the fading throbs of her peak, almost an echo of the twitches in his cock.

It was a while before he softened and slipped from her, to which she groaned in disappointment. She was quite the insatiable woman, but Jorah found he could always _rise_ to the challenge. Although, somehow, he knew another round was unlikely. Perhaps it was because of how drowsily her hooded eyes gazed at him. Or maybe it was the stifled yawn. Either one made him grin. From a goddess of passion to sleepy and adorable in a short span of time, it was not the first time he considered himself incredibly lucky.

Gently rolling to the side, he laid her on her back and drew the covers over her, “I'll take care of the candles, love.”

She murmured her assent and snuggled deeper under the duvet; her eyes already closing. He slipped out of bed and pulled on his boxer briefs, going downstairs to put out the fire and make sure everything was off and doors locked.

By the time he got back, Daenerys had turned to her side and was snoring softly. _Candlelight becomes her_ , he thought, watching her in the golden flickering glow before blowing them out. Snuggling up behind her, he drew her into the safe circle of his arms.

“Happy Christmas, my love,” he whispered into a kiss to her shoulder blade before he too drifted off to sleep.


End file.
